


The Cameo

by Bolt_DMC



Series: The Bolt Chronicles [18]
Category: Bolt (2008)
Genre: Angst, F/M, First Time, Humor, Literature, Movie Reference, Music, No Sex, Non-Graphic Smut, Original Character(s), Post-Canon, Suggestive Themes, Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-11
Updated: 2020-03-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:47:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22987354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bolt_DMC/pseuds/Bolt_DMC
Summary: Penny and her pooch return to Los Angeles to film a cameo role in the movie version of the "Bolt" TV show they starred in. Along the way, the 16-year old girl comes to terms with her burgeoning sexuality and Bolt meets someone from his distant past. Primary cultural references to the EP "Beauty and Sadness" and the album "Especially for You" by The Smithereens, as well as music by Charles Ives, John Cage, Duke Ellington, Aretha Franklin, the Modern Lovers, Paul Revere and the Raiders, Katrina and the Waves, and They Might Be Giants; the book "The Picture of Dorian Gray" by Oscar Wilde; movies such as "Duck Soup," "Lady and the Tramp," "The Empire Strikes Back," and "Fast Times at Ridgemont High"; the TV shows "Mystery Science Theater 3000" and "Dateline: To Catch a Predator"; cultural icons W.C. Fields, Edward Bulwer-Lytton, and "My Little Pony"; and tourist attractions in The City of Angels. Oh, and a fictional piece of very bad smutty fanfic.
Relationships: Bolt & Penny (Disney: Bolt), Bolt/Mittens (Disney: Bolt), Penny (Disney: Bolt)/Original Character(s)
Series: The Bolt Chronicles [18]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2041639
Comments: 17
Kudos: 9





	The Cameo

**Author's Note:**

> Timeline: May 2011
> 
> For Brian T.

Part I: (That Girl Is) Much Too Much

“Good evening,” said Penny, barely stifling a fit of giggles. “Welcome one and all to another episode of ‘Mystery Porn Theater 3000’. Where the big mystery is… just who is the target audience for all those smut fanfics featuring Bolt and 13-year-old Penny on the web? And will any members of said audience be starring in an upcoming TV episode of ‘Dateline: To Catch a Predator’?”

“Well, my extraordinarily oversexed friend -- we may never find out the answer to those age-old burning questions,” snickered Penny’s chem lab partner (formerly Penny’s biology lab partner). “But while we ponder such unfathomables, let’s take a look at tonight’s latest installment, shall we?”

Both girls were sitting in front of the desktop computer in Penny’s bedroom and laughing like crazed kookaburras. Splayed out on the screen was Chapter 69 of an X-Rated 137-part magnum opus that depicted the perversions and depravities of the former child TV star and her heroic pooch in lovingly graphic explicitness, featuring some of the most overripe prose since Edward Bulwer-Lytton’s heyday. Subtitled “Slip ‘n’ Slide and Popsicle Sticks,” the chapter concerned the prepubescent youngster’s earnest efforts to see just how many different fluids could be coaxed from Bolt’s doggy dingle.

Penny’s mom had cautioned her daughter early on to tread with care in the Internet’s fanfiction and fanart world. Every public figure, she had said, was the subject of smutty stories and artwork. Species, sexual preference, marital status, career, age, reputation -- none of that mattered to such creative folk. For some time, Penny had avoided finding it. Curiosity finally got the better of her once the girl turned sixteen, however -- and yes, Rule 34 featuring both her and Bolt was very much alive and well in cyberspace. The teenager’s reaction, though, was to laugh at the absurdity of the lewd scenarios, and she and her chem lab partner had spent their last few Friday nights poking fun at what they had found, giggling hysterically all the while.

The two friends had mercilessly flayed approximately two-thirds of the chapter when Bolt stepped into the bedroom doorway. He wondered where his master had been off to lately, as she had been spending less time in her spot on the living room couch where she preferred to watch television. Seeing the girl ensconced in front of her computer during TV prime time was an unusual experience for him.

Penny twirled in her chair and reached her arms demonstrably in the direction of the pooch. “Come, come, o come, my noble steed! My lusty stallion! Don’t be shy. My loins -- ah, my luscious loins are burning! And it’s you, only you, who can slake the fire!”

The expression on the little shepherd’s face was a portrait of utter confusion. He shook his head with a perplexed groan. “What’s with her? I’m a dog, not a horse. Sounds like she burned dinner, too. Penny’s gonna have to call the fire department to put it out, though, ‘cause I can’t use that extinguisher without thumbs.”

The teenager continued to emote exaggeratedly as her chem lab partner broke into a fit of snickering. “Please, oh please, my sweet doggie-doo!” said Penny ardently. “Take me! Take me to the moon on your colossal red rocket. Oh, my darling -- let me see, ah! Let me see the heavens as you thrust passionately to the very stars!”

Bolt cocked his head and wrinkled his brow in puzzlement. “Now she thinks I’m an astronaut. Boy -- puberty sure does weird things to humans, doesn’t it?” He approached his master cautiously and whimpered. “You doing okay?”

“No, ah no!” cooed Penny’s lab partner. “Come homeward with me instead! I will show you things, Bolt -- things that will open your eyes and broaden your canine horizons.” Penny began to giggle hysterically as her friend continued. “Let me show you the wide, wide world, my fair prince! I can make you happy -- ecstatically, deliriously happy -- with a simple touch of my finger.”

“No thanks,” whined the shepherd. “We’ve got a perfectly good TV right here at home.”

Penny playfully slapped her pal on the shoulder. “Oh, c’mon -- let’s quit teasing the poor dog. I’m sure he hasn’t got a clue what we’re talking about.” She grinned mischievously. “Besides, I want him at full capacity if we’re gonna engage in water sports later on.”

“Ohhhhh!” said Bolt to himself. “Now I understand. We’re getting a pool, aren’t we. Volleyball, water polo, stuff like that? I’ve heard water sports can be very stimulating.”

“Okay, okay,” laughed Penny’s chem lab partner. “Whaddya say we take a break from all this nonsense, head downstairs, and get a ginger ale.” She shot her friend a look and smirked. “Although… if what we read is any indication, you might, um… prefer a headier libation?”

Penny broke into a fit of nervous giggles. “Stop it! You’re absolutely incorrigible, you know that?”

“Unlike you, it would seem,” snickered the girl’s lab partner.

“Shades of Chapter Fifty!” said the two friends in unison as they ran laughing down the stairs.

“Sheesh!” groaned the pooch. “Humans sure get strange at that age, don’t they?” His attention turned to the screen the two teenagers had left open. “Wonder what they’ve been looking at?” he said. The dog stood in front of the computer monitor and began reading the story he saw.

“Hmmm, what’s this?” he murmured. “Uhhh… lusty stallion… canine horizons… colossal red rocket… heady libation… water… uh, water sports… ” With each phrase uttered, Bolt’s expression gradually morphed from inquisitively curious to horrifyingly repulsed.

“Yuck!” the shepherd exclaimed, sticking his tongue out in distaste. “Me? Having sex with my human? That’s just gross! What kind of sick, disgusting, loathsome little degenerate do they think I am? Who comes up with this stuff, anyway? I’ve got a good mind to… to… ”

“Hey, Wags!” came a voice from beside the dog. “You forget about our little get-together or somethin’?” It was Mittens, burrowing her head into Bolt’s shoulder and purring like an outboard motor. “Got a present for you, lovebug, something that’ll keep a big ol’ smile on your face while you’re away next week. Remember?”

The little shepherd turned towards Mittens with a suggestive leer. “Scrumptious kittycat lovin’? Oooh, perfect! The ultimate bon voyage gift, don’tcha know.” Dog and cat raced for the walk-in closet in Penny’s mom’s bedroom and quickly shut the door behind them.

Part II: Strangers When We Meet

The following day, Bolt and Penny arrived in Los Angeles. They were here to film a cameo scene in the upcoming movie version of “Bolt,” an attempt by Sovereign Studios to boost its now flagging television show of the same name. The girl had accepted in part “for old time’s sake” and in part for the lucrative payment that would accompany the upcoming promotional book signing tour.

Producer Mindy (no longer “from the Network”) Parker met the two ex-stars in the parking lot and ushered them into the studio. She had been the one to call Penny’s mom and offer the role, with a reassurance that the studio would put the girl up in a nearby hotel and keep tabs on the 16-year-old during her time in the big city.

“Welcome, kid. Long time no see,” said Mindy from the Movies. She reached out to give the girl a hug, but stopped in mid-motion as Penny produced her hand to shake.

“Oh!” Penny replied, immediately shifting gears to return the offered embrace just as Mindy from the Movies pulled up short and stuck her hand out instead.

The two stood in front of each other awkwardly for a moment, then laughed. “Hug, then?” asked the older woman as they embraced.

“Been a while since you’ve been here, hasn’t it?” said Mindy from the Movies. “Tell you what -- let’s go have a look around before I check you and Bolt into the hotel. It’s not far from here, and you’ll still have time to get in some sightseeing. We’ve got a new state-of-the-art stage replacing the one that burned down. It has a sprinkler system, too -- don’t know why that other one wasn’t up to code.”

Penny ignored the familiar sights and sounds of the busy shooting session going on, however, hoping to find Lance Stonewell, who was playing the heroine’s love interest (one of many pushes against canon fidelity in the film). The girl had had a crush of long standing on the teen heartthrob actor, and given his appearance, this was not surprising. Sandy blond hair, chiseled facial features, a firm jaw, broad shoulders, granite abs, a perpetual confident glare in his eyes -- he was the perfect physical specimen. Or at least Penny thought so.

“Introduce me to him, willya?” giggled the girl.

Mindy from the Movies shot her a knowing look. “Sure, kid,” she said with a big grin. “If I were twenty years younger, I’d have beat you to him. Good luck, and see you in about a half hour. I’m pretty sure I’ve got a director to yell at.”

Shaking his hand, Penny gave the young actor a warm smile. “I’m such a big fan of your work, Lance, have been right from the start. You were great as Toady in ‘School Daze’ -- no question, you really made that show. If you ask me, you should have won Best Supporting Actor the year you were nominated.”

“Yeah, you said it,” replied the hunky teen idol with a smug grin. “Really got jobbed on the award that year, didn’t I? I definitely caught the essence of that dumb jock studmuffin, but also managed to add an extra dollop of pathos that pushed him into more nuanced territory. You’re a very perceptive young woman, anybody ever tell you that?”

“Boy, this guy really is full of himself, isn’t he?” muttered Bolt with an irritated twist of his muzzle, though surrounding people could only hear this as an assortment of doggy grumbles and whines. He looked back and forth between Penny and Lance. “I have absolutely no idea what she sees in him. Maybe humans are attracted to self-absorbed dolts or something.”

“Oh, you flatter me,” said the girl. “I’m Penny, by the way. I guess you remember me from the show’s earlier days? And this is Bolt. They used to call him ‘The Hardest-Working Dog in Show Business’ back then.”

“Ah -- right, right, right!” stammered Lance as he clumsily patted Bolt on the head without further acknowledging him. “That was a few years ago now, wasn’t it? My, my, how you’ve changed -- and I must say, for the better. You’re not that gangly little pixie on a scooter anymore.” He glanced at Penny with a glint in his eye, then continued. “Say, how’s about we get together for coffee later? Kinda want to pick your brain a bit so I can get a better handle on my character’s motivation. Been having some trouble wrapping my head around this role, and I’ll bet you’ll be a big help there. After all, who better to ask than the gal who started it all?”

Penny nodded. “Sure. Bolt and I are headed off to the Norton Simon Museum once we get checked in at the hotel. We love art and that’s supposed to be a great little gallery. You can join us if you like.”

“Paintings? Blech! Talk about a snore,” Lance thought. He touched her on the arm and said, “Appreciate the offer, but I’ve got a script reading session in an hour, so I’ll have to pass. There’s a nice coffee shop open late at the hotel, though. Maybe after dinner, we can pound back an espresso and swap ideas?”

“Okay, sure -- how does 8 o’clock sound?” asked Penny, as Bolt continued to grouse peevishly.

Part III: Some Other Guy

Bolt and his master had thoroughly enjoyed the museum while also managing to squeeze in a tour of the nearby Gamble House. Penny wanted to give the little shepherd a chance to stretch his legs, though, so they headed to a park a few blocks away. Fortunately, it had a large area where pooches could scamper around unleashed. The place was a cacophony of barking dogs and overlapping audio players. A baby boomer’s deck squealed out “Just like Me” by Paul Revere and the Raiders, which competed against “Brown Eyed Son” by Katrina and the Waves throbbing through a Gen-X-er’s Walkman, dovetailing around a Millennial’s tweedling iPod fixated on “My Evil Twin” by They Might Be Giants. Composers Charles Ives (whose splendid Symphony No. 4 features superimposed marching band music and other tunes) and John Cage (whose delightful “Imaginary Landscape No. 4” is scored for twelve radios tuned to different stations) would have loved listening to the merry crisscrossing sonic din, but Penny preferred to remain at the park’s periphery, chatting up some of the less music-loving dog owners.

The shepherd was sniffing around a nearby tree when something unusual caught his attention. Another white dog was staring at him with a big grin. When Bolt wandered over to investigate, the other approached him, mimicking his trot exactly.

“Wow,” he mumbled to himself. “The resemblance is uncanny!” The stranger had the same brown eyes, long ears, short muzzle, big black nose, white coat, huge feet, short legs, and brushy tail. Except for a bit of gray grizzle around his snout, they could have been twins.

Bolt tilted his head to the left with a crooked grin. His double did the same, but off to his right. The stranger lifted his left paw inquisitively when Bolt picked up his right one. As the two dogs crept closer, Bolt made a circular motion with his left paw as if he were wiping a mirror clean -- an action aped by his Doppelgänger in kind.

“Huh,” said Bolt. He paced slowly to his left and then to his right, a move perfectly copied by the pooch at whom he was intently staring. When Bolt quickly stuck his tongue out, so did his “reflection” -- and then a second time, and yet again a third.

Bolt smiled, then suddenly hopped awkwardly backwards, then forwards. He danced wildly, kicking his feet in all directions. He stopped and shook himself, spun in a circle, and finished with an acrobatic backflip. The other shepherd consummately reflected his actions but was fully surprised by the final move. No matter -- though he didn’t actually do a backflip, he pretended to stick the landing perfectly, with Bolt apparently none the wiser.

“Marx Brothers! Duck Soup!” the two shepherds shouted in unison while pointing at each other, both breaking into a hearty guffaw.

“Oh, my dog!” laughed Bolt. “I can’t believe how much you look like me. Who are you, anyway?”

“Name’s Blaze,” chuckled the older pooch. “I know who you are, too. You’re Bolt, from the TV show, right?”

“Yeah -- yeah, that’s right,” he replied. There was something about this dog that stirred feelings deep inside Bolt, as if this stranger wasn’t just another random white shepherd mix. “So, where you from? Do you live near here?” he asked.

Blaze shook his head. “Naw. Actually, I spend most of my time in Silver Lake. I like comin’ to this park when I get the chance, though. Great place to pick up babes, know what I’m sayin’? Bit of a schlep to get out this way, but I wander around a lot. I’m used to it.”

“Silver Lake,” murmured the ex-TV star thoughtfully. “I remember being in an animal shelter there when I was a youngster. Got rescued from a puppy mill, and my person adopted me from that shelter. I was pretty little at the time, though, so my memory’s kinda hazy on that score.”

A flash of recognition crossed Blaze’s face. “Wait, wait, wait -- how old are you? ‘Cause I remember this dame in a Silver Lake puppy mill I had a canoodle with back about, oh, eight years ago. She was a white shepherd -- foxy lookin’ cougar, waaaay outta my league, and a really great lay. You always remember the hottest ones.”

“I’m eight,” said Bolt. “Don’t know what that has to do with anything, though.”

The older shepherd smiled wistfully. “I do.” He cleared his throat and spoke in as deep a voice as he could manage. “Luke -- I am your father.”

The former television star got a bewildered look on his face and scratched his head. “My name’s not Luke -- I’m Bolt. And why are you quoting ‘The Empire Strikes Back’?”

Blaze rolled his eyes. “It’s just an expression. C’mon, give your old dad a hug already, willya?”

Part IV: Time and Time Again

Friday was the day chosen to shoot Penny and Bolt’s cameo scene. It was one of those odd, self-referential in-jokes where Movie Penny and Movie Bolt would run past the original television actors while the latter pair would watch their updated selves with amusement. “Sheesh! Where are they off to in such a hurry? You got any idea?” were the teenager’s lines, to which Bolt would simply shake his head and grumble loudly.

Things weren’t going so well, however, and James the Director (ironically, the same fellow who had helmed the “Bolt” television show during Penny’s days there) was becoming more steamed than a leaky radiator.

“Penny. Sweetheart,” cooed James with audible, melodramatic menace. “I don’t think I have to tell you that we’re now up to Take Ten, and we need to wrap this up tout de suite.” He raised his voice to a shout while gesticulating animatedly. “Concentrate, concentrate, my dear!”

The girl, a reliable trouper during the TV show’s run, had uncharacteristically managed to flub her lines, each time at a different place. Worse yet, a fit of the giggles had begun to overtake her, spoiling even more takes in the process.

“I’m sorry,” she said, trying none too successfully to sound contrite. “I’ll get it right this next time, I promise.” Unfortunately, her vow proved impossible to keep, as Penny put forth an explosive sneeze just before her last sentence.

“Cut!” yelled the exasperated director. “Makeup! Makeup! Fix her face and let’s try it once again!”

Penny managed to compose herself after a quick powder down, and she finally delivered her words flawlessly. But now, it was the dog’s turn to fumble his part. The little shepherd by turns stared impassively, scratched his ear, and whined irritably instead of doing his mandatory headshake and grumble.

“Oy! Children and dogs -- W.C. Fields was right!” shouted James, his neck veins standing out like boat tethers. “All right, all right, you two -- I’m about to start tearing my hair out over here! And believe me, that will wreak havoc with my recently transplanted and very expensive hair plugs. This is your final chance to get it right, so please… please… don’t screw this up!”

The scene board slate clacked. Cameras rolled. Movie Penny and Movie Bolt (by now horribly out of breath after so many takes) darted past. Phrases one, two, and three rolled flawlessly off Penny’s tongue. Bolt shook his head, sat still, and… abruptly dashed off to his left, giving chase to a waddling clutch of nearby ducks as the camera tracked after him.

“Aaugh!” wailed the director as he shook his fists in the air. “Things are behind schedule as it is, and now we’re officially out of time! What are we going to do?”

“Calm down there, sport,” came a voice from behind James. It was Mindy from the Movies, grinning like an energetic banjo picker.

“I fail to see what’s so funny, Mindy from the Movies,” snarled the director. “We don’t have a usable take for this scene as of now!”

The producer shook her head. “Wrong again, Fellini. The dog held his pose long enough that we can edit in a grumble from old TV footage and remove the duck chase. And the screw-ups? That’s blooper gold right there. Perfect for the end credits.” She called out to the girl. “Hey, kid! Don’t worry, you did good. We’re done here.”

Part V: Hand of Glory

The shepherd and his master chose to celebrate the completion of their bungle-fest with a jaunt to the Getty Museum before heading off to the dog park. Penny had an ulterior motive for their sojourn to the latter place, though. She and Lance had gotten along far better than expected the last couple days, and the girl decided that this would be the perfect chance to shed her virginity. The teen heartthrob had playfully indulged in double-entendre banter with her the previous evening, clearly leaving the door open to a night of passion -- and the last thing Penny wanted to endure was Bolt’s perpetual grousing disapproval. Heck, she was of consenting age in her state, and it’s not like she was planning to marry the guy, right? If she had wanted a nanny to chaperone her, she’d have invited her mom along. Besides, she figured Bolt and his aged look-alike probably wanted to spend some quality time together before heading home.

“Bolt,” said the teenager once they found Blaze. “I’ve got a… err… long script reading session with Lance tonight. Gotta help him memorize those tortured lines of dialogue that that poor excuse for a scriptwriter thinks is comedic genius. How’s about you and your friend here spend the night in a doggy sleepover, and I’ll pick you up in the morning before we head off to LACMA. You two have fun together, okay? I’m sure you’ve got lots of catching up to do.” She left the two shepherds with a knowing smirk and a bounce in her step.

Blaze and his son hadn’t been able to enjoy much time together during the week, and both were happy to have the evening to themselves.

“So, how’d that cameo shoot go, anyway?” asked Blaze.

The ex-television star grimaced. “Urgh! Not that great, truth be told. Penny kept botching her lines, and I got too distracted by ducks to do my grumble. Gotta say, it was a lot easier for me to be an actor when I didn’t know I was doing it.”

“I caught a bunch of your episodes,” said the other shepherd. “There’s this electronics store in my neighborhood that had a TV going in the window 24/7. Had closed captioning, but no music or sound effects. I’ve taken in enough movies and television to fill in the blanks, though.”

“From what I’ve seen of the program,” laughed Bolt, “You weren’t missing much.”

“Did your own stunts, too, didn’t ya?” said his dad. “Dashing in and out of cars and trucks on the road -- that’s my stock in trade. Watch and marvel!” With that, Blaze ran headlong into the street, recklessly snaking between two moving cars in a figure “S” motion before darting underneath an 18-wheel truck, emerging unscathed on the sidewalk across from Bolt.

“Yahoo!” whooped the older dog proudly. “Haven’t missed on one of those yet!”

“Dad!” shouted Bolt as he scrambled across the street in panic. “Don’t ever do that again -- you scared me to death!”

“Aw, it’s nothin’,” panted Blaze. “Makes me feel all revved up inside. I live for danger and excitement. And geez -- you’re one to talk! You did crazier stuff than that on your show.”

The younger shepherd grimaced. “Well… yeah. Though there were a lot of special effects and props involved, apparently. Turned out I was never in any real danger. Seriously, though -- if you’ve been doing all this just for fun, you’re lucky to be alive.”

Blaze shook his head. “Naw -- it’s like playin’ pool!” he bragged. “You know your angles and car lengths and undercarriage heights and get your timing down perfect. Piece of cake! But enough of that -- c’mon, follow me. I’m famished, and I know just the place to snag a bite.”

Bolt and his father strolled the streets looking in shop windows and sniffing fire hydrants. “Hey, over here!” the older pooch called out. The two dogs scampered across the street to a posh French restaurant with the sign “Le Caniche Affamé” out front.

“Ohhhh, I dunno about this,” said Bolt nervously. “Looks like a fancy place, and I didn’t bring my jacket and tie.”

Blaze chuckled. “You’re a hoot, y’know that, son? We’re actually headed out back. I know somebody who knows somebody who knows somebody in the kitchen.”

The shepherds turned into the alley behind, where a man stood smoking a cigarette. Attired in grubby chef’s whites, he was thin, short, middle-aged, and shifty looking. When he saw Blaze, though, his greasy, pock-marked face brightened considerably. “Hey, pal,” he said gruffly. “Long time no see.”

The older dog pushed his nose into the man’s knee and whimpered affectionately.

“Aaaah -- c’mere, you!” laughed the disheveled fellow as he scratched Blaze behind the ears. “You always know how to cheer me up.” He knelt down and petted the pooch’s back. “An’ it looks like ya brought a friend. Well, guess what -- you’re in luck tonight. Some snooty high-society gal ordered steak frites and passed on it after just one bite. Couldn’t believe it when they brought the plate to my dish machine. Glad I held it aside. Wait here.” He disappeared inside the eatery’s back door.

“Son, you’re bringin’ me good luck. Think we mighta hit the jackpot!” said Blaze with a smirk.

The man returned with a plate overflowing with french fries and topped with two large pieces of prime beefsteak. “It ain’t exactly ‘Lady and the Tramp’, but I bet you won’t complain none. Here, you guys -- enjoy.”

Part VI: Tracey’s World

“Where to now?” asked Bolt, stomach full and curiosity piqued as they strolled into a nearby trailer park.

The older pooch grinned. “No offense, sonny boy, but I’m feelin’ the need for some female companionship -- and since we’re in this part of Pasadena, thought maybe we’d drop in on Tracey. I got a wench in every port, but I’ll admit I have a soft spot in my loins for this little piece of tail. Great in the sack, know what I mean?”

“Uh -- TMI, dad, TMI!” whined Bolt. “I don’t doubt you’re quite the ladies’ man, but leave something to the imagination, okay?”

Blaze shook his head. “We may both be white, but it looks like you’re the only one that’s pure as the driven snow. Me -- I like gettin’ down an’ dirty with the ladies.”

“Well, sure -- I do, too,” said the younger dog. “I’ve got a girlfriend of my own at home.”

“Good for you!” crowed Blaze. “Knew my studly boy hadda be gettin’ some nookie. So, what breed is she, eh?”

Bolt grimaced anxiously. “Um, well, uh -- I think she’s a… uhh… Domestic Shorthair. Yeah, I’m pretty sure that’s right.”

“Domestic… Domestic… ” mused the older shepherd while furrowing his brow. “Hey, wait a minute. That’s a cat breed! You pullin’ my leg or somethin’?”

“No, dad,” said Bolt. “Mittens and I have been sweethearts for almost a year now.”

An awkward silence fell between father and son like an ocean liner’s anchor. “Wow,” said Blaze finally. “You Generation-Z guys really believe in pushin’ the envelope, don’tcha.”

“I’m only three years younger than you are, dad!” groused Bolt. “We’re both Gen-Z’s, you know.”

“Maybe so,” grumbled Blaze. “But that’s somethin’ I wouldn’t do in a million years -- and I’m a trisexual.”

Bolt arched his brow. “A what? Never heard that term before.”

The older dog grinned lecherously. “That means I’ll try anything once. Aww, but man -- a cat! That’s really out there. You gotta give me that.”

“Yeah, it surprised me, too,” said the younger shepherd. “Once I got past the strangeness of the whole idea, though -- well, let’s just say that I wouldn’t have it any other way. She’s perfect for me, and I love her with all my heart.”

Blaze shrugged. “Well, you know best,” he sighed.

“So, what’s Tracey like, anyway?” asked Bolt.

“Heart of gold she’s got,” said the older dog. “Real friendly and, shall we say, very accommodating. She’s a two-bagger, though, that’s for sure.”

A puzzled look crossed Bolt’s face. “What -- she’s a baseball player or something?”

Blaze broke into a hearty laugh. “No, no! That means -- well, let’s just say she’s not exactly a looker, if ya know what I’m sayin’.”

“Dad! That’s -- that’s really not very nice!” whined the younger pooch.

“Just wait’ll you see her,” said Blaze. “Looks like we’re here, anyway.”

“Here” turned out to be a trailer painted robin’s-egg blue with Jolly Roger flags, plastic flamingos, and gaily spinning pinwheels in the front yard. The song “Respect” by Aretha Franklin wafted indistinctly from an open side window.

“Oh, Diiiiitzy!” howled Blaze. “Where’s my sweet Ditzy-Dooooo?”

The following silence was broken shortly afterwards by a loud crash from inside the trailer. “Owwww!” came a voice from within. “I really gotta be more careful! Got myself good that time.”

An odd-looking pooch emerged from the doggy door. She was a gray Schnauzer/Manchester Terrier mix with a scraggly coat and hairy chest. If anything, Blaze had been conservative on the ideal number of bags needed to hide her shaggy, mustachioed, wall-eyed face.

“How many times I gotta tell ya? Don’t call me ‘Ditzy’ -- it ain’t nice! Do I look like a pony to you? I -- whoa!” said the Schnauzer mix when she saw the two shepherds. “Wow -- either I hit my head a lot harder than I thought, or my eyes are really startin’ to go crackers.”

“Naw -- it’s nothin’ like that, kiddo,” laughed Blaze. “Say hello to my son!”

“Which one?” she quipped. “You’ve got dozens of ‘em.”

“This one’s extra special,” said the older shepherd. “He’s from that television show we sometimes used to watch in the store window Thursday nights, remember? Bolt, this here’s Tracey, my best girl.”

“Uh-huh. ‘Best girl’ -- me and half of LA fit that description,” grumbled the shaggy pooch with a roll of her eyes. “Gotta say, though, I’m really amazed at how much you two look alike. Kinda like weird Dorian Gray twins or somethin’.”

“Pleased to meet you, Tracey,” said Bolt, offering his paw with an earnest, polite smile.

She laughed. “I like ya, kid. You’re a class act and a real gentleman. Musta inherited that from your mom’s side of the family, huh? Much as I got the hots for your dad, it’s not his smooth talkin’ that melts my heart. More like a long way’s south of the mouth, if ya get my drift.”

“Aaah, Tracey,” cackled Blaze with a grin. “Gonna make you drift south and eat those words, chickie baby.”

“All in due time, tastycakes, all in due time,” the Schnauzer mix chuckled. “So,” she said to Bolt. “What’s it like bein’ a Hollywood star?”

The younger shepherd traced a circle in the ground sheepishly. “Well, I’m actually not on the show anymore. In fact, I didn’t even know it was a show. They hid that from me for five years, believe it or not. Wasn’t much fun, either -- pretty stressful, actually. Penny and I quit after we nearly died in a studio fire.”

“That’s awful!” gasped Tracey. “Can’t believe they’d treat ya so rotten. A dog’s gotta live his life with both eyes open, even if they don’t sync up. Ain’t fair, bein’ bamboozled like that.” She glanced at Blaze with a wry grin. “I mean, look -- I’m all gaga over your dad, but I ain’t taken in by his baloney one bit. He’s a rogue with a line of blarney a mile long and a gal in every corner of the city. Every time I see him, though, my stupid heart melts all over again. As the old Duke Ellington song goes, I got it bad and that ain’t good.”

If Blaze felt at all guilty about the nature of his relationship with Tracey, his face certainly didn’t show it. “Awww, don’t be like that. Like I said, you’re my best girl, no question about it.”

“Today, anyway,” groused the Schnauzer mix under her breath. She shook her head. “Okay, okay, big guy. Time for you to do what you do best.”

“Hang on a sec’,” said Blaze, whose thoughts were still reeling a fair bit from the revelation that Bolt was in a relationship with Mittens. “Son, you know, you don’t have to settle for feline fritters if you don’t wanna. I dunno -- maybe… maybe Tracey can show you how a proper bitch can treat a guy.”

Looks of shocked revulsion suddenly crossed both Bolt’s and Tracey’s muzzles. “Ew!” “No!” “Gack!” “Dad!” “Blech!” “Putz!” “Yuck!” -- the epithets of disgust rained down on Blaze in emphatic stereo.

“All right! All right!... All right… ” moaned the older shepherd contritely. “It’s just -- it’s just that my boy here is in love with a cat. Just thought maybe you could, y’know, sway him a little in the proper direction.”

“Lemma tell ya somethin’, ya doofus!” growled Tracey. “Love and sex are funny things, and sometimes they take us into weird alleyways we never thought we’d go down. I’m with ya, you ding-a-ling, and I ain’t always proud of it. Like now, f’rinstance. But my heart says yes to you, even if my head don’t think it’s my best decision. I gotta go with my heart, cuz that’s what’s tellin’ me honest. And if you ever try pimpin’ me out to anyone again, we’re through! Got it?”

“Sweetie pie,” whined Blaze as he hung his head. “I’m sorry. That was lousy of me. You deserve better -- and yeah, I’ll admit it, better than me. I guess we’re just stuck wit’ each other, huh?”

The Schnauzer mix shook her head. “Yeah, looks like it, don’t it? Ugh -- c’mon, Blaze. I got an itch that needs some serious scratchin’, and believe it or not, I’m glad you came by tonight.” She glared at her lover. “And no -- he can’t come and watch us for pointers!”

Blaze and Tracey made a mad dash for the back of the trailer, leaving Bolt to gawk at pinwheels, pirate flags, and pink flamingos.

Part VII: Beauty and Sadness

“So, that’s it, huh?”

Penny lay in her hotel room bed. The clothing she had worn earlier that evening traced an erratic trail from the door to the nightstand. Sheets, blankets, and pillows lay twisted and scattered around her. The girl stared at the ceiling as if hoping to find an answer to her question, but the white, pebbly surface loomed impassively above her.

She arranged a couple pillows against the headboard, leaned heavily against them, and sighed. Penny switched on her iPod, hoping to find some distracting music. The first options to come up were the EP “Beauty and Sadness” and the album “Especially for You” by The Smithereens -- but songs about bad love such as “Alone at Midnight,” “In a Lonely Place,” and “Behind the Wall of Sleep” held no appeal to her right now.

Somehow, her first time hadn’t been at all what she had hoped for. In truth, Penny wondered why she had built up such high expectations for it. A romantic, intimate seduction? A clandestine, exciting tryst? A smutty, energetic romp? Any of these would’ve been preferable to what had actually occurred.

As it turned out, Lance was not terribly experienced -- certainly not something she had expected from a Hollywood teen heartthrob. The whole encounter had been an exercise in awkwardness, all elbows and knees and shoulders in the wrong place as well as an inopportunely timed foot cramp and hair pull. She had done her best to try and figure out what he might enjoy, but Lance seemed far too focused on himself to reciprocate. In fact, Penny thought he had been pretty darned selfish in what should be an activity based on mutual pleasure.

She hadn’t wanted to see the morning still a virgin, and -- well -- mission accomplished. And maybe there’s something to be said for having your first time be with someone as gorgeous and charismatic as Lance. She remembered something her mom had once said, though: “Choosing your boyfriends based solely on looks is like choosing a new house because you like the paint job.” Her advice often irritated Penny no end, but she was usually right. Darn it.

If that hadn’t been enough, Lance seemed eager to leave immediately after their lovemaking. A little too eager, she thought. He could have stayed and cuddled for maybe a half-hour at least, perhaps offered to meet her for coffee and a muffin the next morning and bid her a friendly goodbye. That would have been nice. Instead, he dressed hastily, said he had to be home at a certain hour and would be busy shooting all day tomorrow, and scooted out the door leaving a perfunctory peck on her cheek. Penny knew she was lots of things, but coyote ugly wasn’t one of them.

The worst part was how she felt right now. Goofing on fanfic porn and indulging in a stimulating kiss-and-grope was one thing, but (as unsatisfactory as it had been) having sex seemed to roil a whole new set of feelings she hadn’t experienced. This was no game -- the feelings were strong and seemed to search for a live connection. It was far more than simple tension and release. Penny felt as if she had an electrical wire sticking out of her heart, one that was fully charged with emotional surge but had no grounding wire and no outlet to plug into. It left the teenager feeling jangled and stirred up without a way to release the current -- a new and unpleasant sensation indeed.

She checked the television listings and immediately saw “Fast Times at Ridgemont High” come up on the screen as tonight’s featured film. Remembering its subplot involving a bad first sexual experience, she switched the set off hastily. “I dunno,” the girl groaned. “Maybe I wasn’t as ready for this as I thought. Sex with someone you have no affection for really stinks. Plus, my grades have been slipping a bit the last few months since the hormones really started kicking in. Might want to concentrate on my schoolwork and wait to do this with someone I’ve actually got feelings for next time.”

Penny flipped through her iPod to see what else might be on it. “Oh!” she said with pleasant surprise. “’Girlfriend’ and ‘Someone I Care About’ by the Modern Lovers. I had forgotten I had included these songs. Just the thing right now.” She switched the music on and listened resignedly. “Ugh -- boy, am I tired. Disappearing into a good, solid sleep ought to make me feel better in the morning. I hope.”

Part VIII: Crazy Mixed-Up Kid

Bolt and his father trudged silently off to the freeway underpass the latter had been calling home lately. Their visit with the Schnauzer mix had left the two dogs feeling uncomfortable with each other.

The older shepherd spoke first. “So, I guess you’re gonna give me the silent treatment, huh?”

Bolt stopped short, sitting on the sidewalk as he glared at his father. “How -- how could you do something like that? Okay -- being in love with Mittens struck me as strange at first, but this -- this was bigger than both of us. I’m not being true to myself otherwise. Her either.” Anger began to overwhelm the younger shepherd. “And look at you -- running around like a sultan, doling out favors to his harem. You don’t even treat Tracey with any respect! That’s not love, that’s just catting around, if you’ll pardon the expression. It’s unnatural! It’s immoral!”

Blaze aggressively stuck his face into his son’s and growled. “Listen, Mr. I’m-Porkin’-the-Pussycat. Don’t get all high and mighty on me, or -- star or no star -- I’ll put you over my knee! I got somethin’ that works for me just fine. All my gals know the score here, and if they don’t like it, I’ll just find another one to replace her. We’re all consenting adults, just like you are, ya big fat hypocrite! And you ain’t any more wholesome than me, neither! I remember seeing that one episode of yours where you Super Barked that army at the airport into kindling. You and Penny were pretending to read magazines while you shadowed that thug. And you, my fine pristine friend, were looking at the centerfold of ‘Dog Fancy’ magazine. That’s right -- you were ogling porn right on national TV! I know, ‘cause I saw your excited little pink soldier sneakin’ to attention right outta your sheath. And might I say, that’s the slowest I’ve ever seen you run on the show -- ever! It’s pretty tough to scamper all that fast on five legs, ain’t it?”

The two pooches backed away from each other, stunned at the sharp words they had just exchanged. A chagrined look crossed Bolt’s face because he remembered that issue of “Dog Fancy” extremely well. Ah, Rosie -- Miss March 2008, a rangy Greyhound bitch with a come-hither smile and a taut runner’s body. Age: 3 years old. Turn-ons: long unleashed walks, smelly slippers to chew, American white shepherds. Turn-offs: puppy mills, piddle accidents, Basset hounds. Penny had stashed the magazine under the cot in his trailer just in case Bolt got lonely -- and, truth be told, he had taken advantage of it a couple of times. “Yeah -- you know, you’re right. You’re absolutely, positively right. Dad, I’m -- I’m sorry. Honestly, I really am. I didn’t want us to have such harsh words.”

“Naw, neither did I,” sighed the older shepherd sadly. “It wasn’t right for me to judge you like that. Life’s a big, weird carnival, and it’s got a million different rides and arcade games for all tastes. And the ones we decide to enjoy are nobody’s business but our own. Look -- it’s gonna take me some gettin’ used to, my famous son in love with a kittycat. But I’ll get past that. We all got a right to happiness, whatever form it takes. Hey, no long faces. Let’s head to the bunkhouse for a bit of shuteye, okay? And we can talk about stuff proper, like a boy and his dad should.”

Part IX: I Don’t Want to Lose You

Blaze and his son woke up around 7 o’clock and headed to the dog park.

“Penny should be by pretty soon. We’re going to the Los Angeles County Museum of Art when it opens, then off for a flight back home,” said Bolt. “If it’s like the other art museums we went to, it’ll be great.”

The older pooch nodded. “Never been, but I hear tell it’s amazing. Movies and music are more my thing, so I can’t say from experience.”

A nervous silence descended upon the two little shepherds. Eventually, Bolt spoke.

“Dad -- come with me to the country. Please? Penny and her mom are so nice, and I’m sure they’ll be happy to adopt you. Good food, good company, fresh air, and all the room you could ever want to stretch out in, having fun without a care in the world. I… y’know, I hate to see you living the way you do -- scrambling for handouts, sleeping under highway bridges, making do with whatever love you can scrounge up. I… I… look -- let Penny and me take care of you when you get too old, maybe make your twilight years a bit nicer.”

Blaze was visibly moved by his son’s generous offer. “Aw, my boy. Now, look… you’ve gotten your old man all verklempt here. That’s the nicest offer anyone’s made to me in a long time, and I sure do appreciate the sentiment. But y’know what? Believe it or not, I’m happy the way things are. I tried the domestic route before -- many times, in fact -- and I’m just no good at it. I love livin’ on the edge -- running into the street like a nutcase, weaving in and out of cars and under trucks, beating trains to railroad crossings. The thrill, the action, the danger -- it gets my juices flowing, makes me feel alive like nothing else. I love wheedling scraps from stores and restaurants. And havin’ a fox in every henhouse -- man, juggling all those babes makes me feel like a pup all over again. If I went back with you, I’d go stir crazy. It’d be like a gold-plated prison to me, and I cherish my freedom over everything else. Besides, we’d get on each other’s nerves pretty bad inside of a week or so. I love you, and stayin’ here in LA is the best way I can show you that.”

Bolt smiled sadly. “Okay, dad. You win. Believe me, I understand -- but I’d never be able to forgive myself if I hadn’t asked.”

“You’re all right, you know that?” replied Blaze as he put a paw on his son’s shoulder. “Somebody really raised you proper, all moral and decent-like. Sure didn’t get that from me.” He looked up at the sky and grimaced. “Looks like it’s gettin’ on towards 8 o’clock. Your person’s due by soon, and I’ve gotta scrounge up some breakfast. One more thing before I take off, son -- just know I love you, and that I’m really, really proud of you.”

Tears ran down both dogs’ eyes as they hugged each other tightly. “I love you too, dad,” said Bolt. “And I’ll never, ever forget you.”

“Bye, son!” shouted Blaze as he dashed off into the street, dancing between the zipping cars with polished assurance.

Penny arrived at the dog park not long after Blaze left. “There you are, Bolty,” she said, sounding tired and spent. “Ready for LACMA? I’ve got your color glasses right here in my pack. Hoo boy -- I could sure use a good art pick-me-up right now. C’mon, buddy, let’s go.”

Bolt buried his head into Penny’s leg. “Yeah, me too,” he whined glumly.

Girl and dog leisurely headed off for a date with Rembrandt, Rivera, and Cézanne.

**Author's Note:**

> The title of Part III refers to the Smithereens song written by Pat DiNizio and appearing on the EP "Beauty and Sadness," not the Lieber/Stoller/Barrett selection covered by both the Beatles and Smithereens.


End file.
